Time Sense
by Dark Aegis
Summary: Time travel tends to do a number on semantics. How else can you meet someone for the first time for the second time? Sequel to 'Companion Sense'
1. Chapter 1: Murphy's Law

**Title:** Time Sense  
**Authors:** Gillian Taylor  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Characters:** Ten/Rose, Dorothée McShane  
**Summary:** Time travel tends to do a number on semantics. How else can you meet someone for the first time for the second time? Sequel to 'Companion Sense'  
**Spoilers:**'Companion Sense', little of the NA 'Set Piece', and minor references to the Fourth Doctor era.  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.  
**Archive:** Sure, just let me know.

**A/N:** Thanks, as always, to my fabulous betas WMR, Ponygirl, and NNWest. Additional thanks must, of course, go to the readers of the first story in this series. Their mentions of raising a 'sequel banner' got my muse moving in this particular direction. :)

* * *

**"Time Sense"  
by Gillian Taylor**

**Chapter 1: Murphy's Law**

Oh, cruk. Cruk, cruk, cruk, _frelling_ cruk. Here she was, Paris, 1913, without her bike, without any money, bleeding from a wound on her leg, wearing a torn and dirty frock, and an angry alien mob at her back. She didn't even have a bloody hopper available as a backup! Oh, yes, this was a wonderful day. Fantastic, really.

She skidded on the wet pavement as she tried to round the corner, cursing violently as her leg almost gave out on her. A glance - she could spare a glance - and…

CRUK!

They were almost on top of her. Great. One thing she didn't fancy was becoming the next meal on whatever-the-hell-they-were's menu. Hell, she didn't fancy running helter-skelter through the alleys of Paris. There were things in the refuse piles, and even just lying on the ground, that she was fairly certain she wanted to know nothing about. Let alone land in them when someone hadn't bloody cleaned up after themselves!

"CRUK!" She cursed violently as she picked herself out of the rubbish heap that she'd skidded into. Her leg burned from the impact and she didn't want to think about what sort of muck had got into the wound.

"MEAT!" The whatever-the-hell-they-were's leader shouted as it sprinted toward her.

"Oh, I don't think so," she replied and, spinning on her heel, she darted down the alleyway. She took the first left turn she could find. As long as she could keep running she'd be fine. Even wounded, she was faster than they were. Her little stint on the Cheetah planet ensured that.

Didn't matter that they had massive claws that would undoubtedly hurt once they caught her. No. She shouldn't even think about that. She'd be fine. All she had to do was find some way of getting back to the Rift, find her bike, her cash, and get the hell out of 1913 and grab some reinforcements. Well, what she really wanted was her stash of nitro. A nice explosion would do the whatever-the-hell-they-weres some good.

That was, of course, when she realised her mistake. Dead end.

She'd made a wrong turn. Of all the bloody worst luck to have, it had to be today. When she reached the end of the alley, she turned. She'd be damned if she'd face her death cowering in the corner.

Then again, facing the slobbering crowd of whatever-the-hell-they-weres would probably reduce most people to cowering. Good thing she wasn't 'most people'.

She grinned at them, ignoring the pain. "Anyone ever tell you that it isn't polite to try and eat them?"

"MEAT!" The leader repeated its earlier words.

"Oh, what an imaginative thing you are. 'Meat'," she repeated disdainfully. "Why not 'and here I shall grind your bones into dust, something, something, something'? 'Meat' is just so…so…"

"Camp?" a new voice suggested from somewhere behind the whatever-the-hell-they-weres.

"Exactly!" she responded automatically, before she realised the danger. "Oi! Get the hell out of here! They're…"

"Oh, I know exactly what they are," the voice said, irritatingly calm. Damn the whatever-the-hell-they-weres for being so bloody big! She couldn't even see what the owner of the voice looked like. All she knew was that he sounded like he was from London, had a great voice and, if she indulged her imagination, was probably tall, incredibly handsome, and might have a killer grin.

"Teralnishtapins! Oh, haven't seen these blokes for years. Though, really, they're not actually blokes. Or women either. They're sort of…androgynous, really. They just like to eat. Eat anything, they will. Meat, metal, plastic. They stay away from veggies, though. But, otherwise, lots and lots of eating for them. Meat's their favourite, of course. As I'm sure you could probably tell from their oh so eloquent speech patterns."

Wasn't that nice? Some of the Teralnish-whatevers were still eying her hungrily, but others had turned toward the owner of the voice. "Thanks, that's so incredibly useful."

The man sounded hurt as he replied. "But knowing's half the battle! Oh, wait, sorry, that's _G.I. Joe_. Love that cartoon. Anyway, we've got ourselves a problem here. Good thing I know just the sort of thing that'll get the Teralnishtapins to go back to where they came from like the nice little trained animals they are. Rose!"

Was he calling her Rose? Oh, wait. No he wasn't.

"Yeah?" a woman answered.

"Now!" he commanded. "Shield your eyes!"

She saw something arc through the air, gleaming in the faint light with an almost unearthly glow.

Was that a…?

Oh, cruk, he wasn't about to…

Of course he was. Belatedly, she covered her eyes as the object disappeared in the midst of the Teralnish-things.

The world turned white. Brilliant, blinding, painful white.

She could hear the screams of the Terals-whatsits and, moments later, she could hear them running away.

"What the cruk was that?" she asked as her vision slowly began to return. Even through the shield of her hand, she'd been blinded.

"A Dante-Katsume photon emitter, Mark IV," the man answered. He was still blurred by the reflected image on her eyes, but she got the impression of height and slenderness.

A Dante-Katsume photon emitter? The cruk? That hadn't been invented yet. Hell, the company wasn't even founded until the late twenty-second century. "Who are you?" she asked suspiciously. Sure, he'd saved her life, but she wasn't having a very good day. It'd be just her luck that he'd turn out to be one of those bloody Time Agents mucking about in her territory.

"Oh, Ace, I'm hurt. Don't you recognise me?"

Ace. He'd called her Ace.

Oh, no. It couldn't be.

"Professor?" she asked incredulously, still half-blinded from both the light and the agony of her wound.

She could almost, almost see his grin. "That's me! Hello!"

She figured that she could be forgiven as the pain reached a crescendo and she collapsed, unconscious, at his feet.

* * *

Oh, stupid, stupid, stupid. He should've noticed that she wasn't at her best. The blood on her frock should've been a dead give-- 

Blood!

"Ace!" he cried, kneeling next to her, ignoring the debris and rubbish that was scattered about the ground.

Right, blood. Lots of blood. He winced as he lifted away the soaked fabric to reveal a nasty gash in her thigh. If anything, it probably matched a Teralnishtapin claw. But, thankfully, it didn't look life-threatening. Just painful. And bleeding rather profusely.

First things first and next things next. Best to get it treated before she lost any more blood. He untied the knot of his tie and slid it off his neck. Wasn't necessarily his first choice for a tourniquet, but it'd do the job. He wrapped the fabric around Ace's thigh and tightened it to slow the blood flow.

He could hear pounding footsteps behind him, but he knew that pace. It was Rose.

"Dorothée! Doctor, what 'appened?" Rose asked as she skidded to a halt next to him.

"Oh, I'd say she had a close encounter of the Teralnishtapin kind." His jaw clenched at the thought. If they'd been only a few seconds later, Ace wouldn't've made it.

He firmly dismissed that thought. It was tempting to think that she would've been fine without them - after all, she had helped Rose rescue him from a gaol in Nova Paris - but he knew better. Time was constantly being rewritten. But, thankfully, she was fine. They were fine. And they had a mystery on their hands.

Rose's hand rested on his shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze before she spoke. She seemed to always know what he was thinking. Bad Wolf's influence, perhaps, but he wasn't certain if it wasn't just Rose being Rose. "Let's get her back to the TARDIS. We can sort out her leg an' then find out what sort of mess you've landed us in this time."

"Oi!" he protested as he carefully lifted Ace into his arms. Even unconscious, she managed to shift to help him easily accommodate her weight. "I haven't landed us in a mess." He wrinkled his nose as a waft of refuse-tainted air blew through the alleyway.

Rose grinned. "You haven't?"

He didn't deign to answer.

* * *

She bit her lower lip as she followed the Doctor back into the TARDIS. Dorothée would be fine. They'd just have to sort her leg. It'd be nothing more than a few minutes worth of work, really. Then, of course, they'd have to figure out whatever had caused the Teralnishta-whatsits to chase the other woman through the alleys of Paris. 

To be truthful, she was getting rather tired of France. Admittedly, Nova Paris had technically been a massive city-state spanning the former countries of France, Spain, and Portugal. However, they'd still been in the centre of old-Paris. That'd been the first time that she'd meet Dorothée. Was a bit fitting, really, to meet her again in the same spot. Just several centuries earlier. And before she'd met her in the first place. Well, at least from Dorothée's perspective.

Time travel really did tend to do a number on semantics.

Tended to do a number on a lot of things, really. She suppressed a wince as she recalled Mickey's expression as they dropped him off in London for the last time. He'd noticed, well, of course he'd noticed, that things had changed between the Doctor and herself. It became a bit too uncomfortable for him, so he'd asked to go. Barely a week with them and he was already gone.

However, as the Doctor liked to say, 'that was then, this is now'. And now they had to help Dorothée.

She slipped in front of the Doctor as they reached the door that led into the medical room and held it open for him. With a brief smile of thanks, he brushed past her and put their friend - who, technically, had yet to become _her_ friend...semantics again! - onto one of the beds.

The Doctor gently pulled back Dorothée's torn and bloodied frock from her leg, revealing a rather nasty-looking gash. "Mmm, looks worse than it is. Rose, I need the dermal regenerator and some water, please."

She nodded and quickly gathered the requested items. However, as she got closer to Dorothée's prone form, she felt strange. Lighter, somehow. Almost as if...

_There was this singing…_

All of time and space opened before her. Where normally there were infinite possibilities, like a multitude of pages in the book of time, she found only one.

Just one.

Terror caused her heart to beat quickly in her chest. Fear caused her breath to catch in her throat.

She realized the truth.

There was no future.

There was only darkness.

_I think you need a…_

She blinked, drawing in a gasping breath. She felt dazed, drained, as if a good chunk of herself had gone missing. However, the Doctor hadn't noticed. She was still holding the pan full of water, still holding the dermal regenerator.

The only change was that her hands were shaking, threatening to slosh the water onto the floor.

"Doctor…" she tried, before trailing off. How could she begin? 'Doctor, by the way, remember Bad Wolf? Well, it came back again, just now. An' guess what it showed me? The future? The future for the entire universe? It's gone. There's nothing but darkness.' Or should she try picking a page out of Dorothée's book? 'Doctor? We're crukked.'

"Yes?" he asked, not turning around.

"Where d'you want the water an' the regenerator?" She needed to tell him what she'd seen, of course, but Dorothée's injury must come first.

"Just set it on the bed. Once I'm finished with the dermal regenerator, we can see about cleaning her up a bit."

She nodded, though he couldn't see, and set the objects down on the bed and waited for him to finish his task. Once he seemed to be finished, she decided to try again. "Doctor? There's something else."

"What's that?"

There really was no good means of conveying what she knew. So, she settled for the simplest. "The future's gone."

He turned toward her, his brown eyes wide in shock. "What?"

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2: No Future

**Chapter 2: No Future**

Consciousness, she decided, was highly overrated. Especially when consciousness meant that the worst brass band in all of time and space had decided to start up a samba in her mind that was punctuated by, of course, a troop of knife-dancers who decided that her skull would serve as a good target. It also meant that she was obviously no longer in a Parisian alley – it smelled too clean here, wherever 'here' was – and she couldn't feel any pain. If some hapless Parisian had found her, and treated her, she should still feel the wound. It'd been nasty, bleeding freely, and something like that couldn't be fixed with this century's technology.

Oh. Oh, cruk. There'd been someone else there – when she'd been facing the slobbering whatever-the-hell-they-weres - right? Someone that she'd thought might be a Time Agent? Yes. And she vaguely remembered collapsing at that person's feet. But, no. That didn't fit the facts.

That person had called her Ace. And the only person who knew that name, at least the only one who could find her that easily and had that sense of timing, was dead. It couldn't be her Professor. That was impossible.

The Doctor was dead, along with the rest of the Time Lords. She should know. She'd seen it, barely got away herself, but she'd seen it. Had known the instant that Gallifrey and all of its denizens were wiped from time and space because of the massive ripples it'd caused in the Vortex. She'd barely managed to make it back to Paris in time before time travel became almost impossible for anyone without a TARDIS. And TARDISes were gone.

It'd taken weeks for the Vortex to settle down enough for even short trips using the hoppers to check out the condition of the Rift. It was a tad bigger than it had been and a lot more unpredictable as to what might pop out of it, but she could cope. Had coped, really.

Oh, sure, she'd cried. She could admit it. Hell, anyone would cry after witnessing a war like that. Especially since it meant she'd never get to see the Professor again. But she'd moved on, dealt with the knowledge that the universe no longer had Time's Champion, so it'd just have to do with Time's Vigilante instead.

That still couldn't answer the fundamental questions of her current existence. The 'who the hell had brought her here' to 'where the hell here was' to 'what the hell happened to her wound'. There really was only one option left to her.

She opened her eyes.

And found herself staring at a ceiling. A very, very familiar ceiling, if she could take away the odd paint job. Colour it white and it'd be a dead ringer for...

"Oh, cruk..." she whispered. It couldn't be. It bloody well couldn't be. Because if this was the TARDIS – and now she thought about it, she could feel the ship reaching out to touch her mind– then that meant...

"Hello, Ace," the Doctor – had to be him, she rationalised – said with a wide smile. There was something in his eyes, though, that belied the joviality of the expression. Almost as if he knew something terribly important, but was withholding it until he could be certain of her reaction.

"You changed," she said flatly, refusing to give into the urge to either a) throw her arms around him and hug him until his respiratory bypass system kicked in or b) throttle him to within an inch of his life for making her think him dead.

His eyes were strangely knowing as he looked at her. He always could see right through her masks, damn him. Without a word, he leaned over and gathered her into his arms. It wasn't his arms around her that did it. Nor was it the fact that she was in the TARDIS.

It was the feel of the double-beat of his hearts that set her off. "Oh, hell, Professor," she whispered through her damning tears. "I thought you were dead."

"Rumours of my death are highly exaggerated," he said rather cheekily, giving her one final squeeze before releasing her. "But what matters is that you're here, I'm here, Rose's here, and the TARDIS is here. Oh, and we're all in one piece. Admittedly, your frock's not. Sorry about that, but it couldn't be helped. Had to get at that gash somehow."

That explained why she wasn't hurting anymore, of course. Not that she'd expect the Doctor to leave her in a state where she was. "That's all right. Wasn't too fond of this frock anyway." Then she realised that he'd said a name she didn't recognise. No, wait, she did. It was shouted right before he'd used the photon emitter. "Rose?"

He smiled. "Ah, yes. Ace." He stepped back and beckoned for a girl – not much older than she was when she'd first joined him, she supposed – to step forward. Blonde hair – probably dyed - brown eyes, contemporary early twenty-first century clothing, and was that recognition in her eyes? "Meet Rose Tyler. Rose, this is Dorothée 'Ace' McShane."

"Nice to meet you," Rose said, smiling at her. Strange. If, while she'd been travelling with him, she'd met someone who'd known the Professor before her, her first inclination would've been jealousy. Not for this one. If anything, Rose was treating her almost as if she were a friend.

"Hello," she tried, wincing as the words scratched in her throat. "Sorry, Professor, but could I get some water?"

He was about to berate himself – she could tell that much from the guilt in his eyes – but Rose stopped him. "Sorry 'bout that. He gets a bit carried away, even when it's not his fault." There was definitely some sort of history there. "We're glad you're okay, Dorothée." A moment later, Rose offered her a cup full of water.

She was too busy drinking the liquid to truly answer the other woman. Mostly because she was thirsty and she was trying to figure out whether she knew Rose from before. Especially since she'd addressed her as Dorothée and not Ace. Unless she would know her in the future, which was Rose's past. Sometimes she rather hated the intricacies of time travel.

"I'll get you some clothes. You probably don't want to be wearing that ripped and stained frock for any longer than you have to. Think we're about the same size, so I'll loan you some jeans and a t-shirt." Without bothering to wait long enough for her to answer, Rose left the room, presumably in search of just that.

The Professor… No, he wasn't her Professor, not anymore. Too many years lay between them, and at least two regenerations. The Doctor – yes, that fit - watched Rose leave with a bemused expression on his face.

"I like her," she decided. "So, what're you doing in my territory, Doctor? Besides rescuing former companions from ravenous Teralni…what did you call them?"

"Teralnishtapins," he corrected. "As for why we're here, well, it's a bit complicated." He ran his hand through his hair in an unconscious gesture, looking distinctly uncomfortable. It was amazing, really, how _young_ he looked. Now that she looked, it was hard to fathom that this was the man who was once her Professor.

No brolly this go around. No paisley scarf, no question-mark pullover. Just a pin-striped suit and, yes, it appeared he was wearing trainers. "Complicated?" She laughed. "Doctor, with you, it's always complicated. TARDIS miss her destination? Or…" She studied his expression before she decided on what his reason might be. "You can't tell me because it might change the course of the future."

Apparently she said a magic word, because he winced. "Yeah, that's the thing. The future."

Now she was suspicious. It didn't matter what he looked like now, she knew that look. "What about it?"

"It's gone." Rose said from the doorway, holding a bundle of clothing in her arms.

She blinked. "Gone? The future is gone." The words were uttered in disbelief. "How can the future be gone?"

She hadn't noticed anything. The Rift was the Rift was the Rift. No indications of any fluctuations beyond that which had brought through the Teralnishtapins. Then again, she didn't have the sensors or any of the equipment the Doctor had on the TARDIS. Maybe he'd seen something...but no. That wasn't possible, right?

Oh, sometimes she really, really, hated knowing what she did.

* * *

It wasn't easy being him. Oh, wait, that was a song. He sighed. "The future's in constant flux. A left turn instead of a right. A word left unspoken. One choice instead of another. A death where there might've once been life. The future is made of possibilities. Those possibilities are gone. And I suspect it might have something to do with your little Teralnishtapin problem."

"Doctor, you're talking about something that can't just up and vanish. What could do something like that? Oh, sure, we've seen things before that've threatened the future of this planet – or, hell, another planet. It doesn't matter. Same thing. But this is just…" Her brow furrowed as she searched for a word.

"It's a bigger scale," Rose replied. She crossed the room and dropped the bundle of clothes onto the bed next to Ace. "All I know is that in two days the universe ends."

She hadn't said that before. He turned toward his companion, his expression questioning. "You know a time now?"

She shrugged, apparently still uncomfortable with her abilities. "'S a guess, really. Can't narrow it down more than that."

"Right." Of course she couldn't. Now that she'd pointed it out, he could see bits of it too. Possibilities coming to an abrupt end, not too far into the future. "Ace, why don't you get changed and we can move this discussion into the kitchen? I could do with a nice cuppa. Want one?"

Ace nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

He grinned and turned, automatically grasping Rose's hand. "We'll see you in the kitchen."

Once they were outside and out of hearing distance, he turned toward Rose. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, what? With the end of the universe coming up an' I've discovered that I've managed to pick up front-row seats? I'm doin' great. Fantastic, really." Her sarcasm disappeared as she leaned against him. "I dunno, Doctor. It's just…seeing Dorothée, an' those Teralnishtapins, and then there's this whole Bad Wolf thing. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel."

He sighed and tugged her into an embrace, kissing the top of her head as she slipped her arms around him. "I don't know what to tell you, Rose." And he didn't. What could he say? Yes, she could see only portions of what he could. Bits and pieces of time and space, whatever the portion of her that was forever Bad Wolf decided to share. Not like him, though. And, amazingly, it hadn't driven her mad.

"Then don't say anything," she advised. When he looked down at her, he could see that she'd closed her eyes as she hugged him closer.

End of the universe. He'd faced it before. Both the literal end – the Big Crunch – and at least one time with Logopolisians and the premature heat-death of the cosmos. There was also the Apocalypse Element that the Daleks had created, but he'd taken care of that. What could be causing it this time? The Rift?

He sighed again. It was useless to speculate until they had the facts. Ace could help. At least, she might've spotted the warning signs. Beyond the Teralnishtapins. Perhaps there were fluctuations with the Rift, odd surges in temporal energy…no. She wouldn't've been able to register those. She didn't have the proper technology.

"Doctor, I was thinkin'," Rose murmured into his jacket.

"Dangerous habit, that," he teased.

"I've seen the end of the world. The end of this world, at least. But, if what I've seen in my head is true, it wouldn't've happened. How do you avoid going mad thinking about all of this? All these…what ifs, what could bes, and all that sort. How can someone destroy the universe?"

He could think of one way. Just one.

Oh. _Oh._ No. That was impossible. It'd been scattered through time and space. He'd _made_ it happen.

"There's a way," he allowed. But, no. He refused to believe it to be true. It was gone. The artefact was broken into pieces, scattered throughout the universe. The Time Lords were the only ones with the technology to find the pieces, and his people were gone.

"How?" she asked.

Oh, he prayed she'd never know, but he had to answer. "If they used the Key."

"The Key? The Key to what?"

"The Key to Time. I found it once, actually. Well, I was searching for it. The Time Lords and the Guardian…er, well, it doesn't matter. It's an artefact that has the power to stop the universe. To end it, if it was used improperly. It's so powerful, in fact, that it's kept in six segments that are scattered throughout space and time. The only technology that I know of that could've found it belonged to my people, and they're gone. I doubt that the Key has anything to do with it. Maybe it's something with the Rift?" Oh, now, he was just reaching.

Rose pulled away just enough so she could look at him. "But suppose they have this Key…how would we know? I mean, I doubt they'd be waving it around. And I can't suspect that this all-powerful artefact would've been easy to locate. Probably doesn't have a convenient labelling system – Part A of the Key to Time, etcetera."

That startled a laugh out of him. "No. It didn't have any labels. But the pieces could look like anything. One was even a person. I was just reaching, though. They couldn't've found it." Right? He was starting to doubt his own logic. Wonderful. Brilliant.

"If they had, is there a way to, oh, I dunno, break it apart? 'Cause they need six pieces, right? So if you could just break it apart…"

He grinned madly. "Oh, Rose, you're brilliant!" Enthusiastically, he dipped his head and kissed her soundly, before pulling away again. "Yes, there is a way! I broke the tracer last time. So, if they, whoever they are, have the Key, all we have to do is destroy their tracking device."

She shook her head, smiling fondly. "Doctor..."

Oh. He was forgetting something. "I'm getting ahead of myself. Can't come to a solution without knowing all the facts. I'm putting the horse in front of the cart. Or was that the cart in front of the horse? Oh, never mind. It's the thought that counts, right?" He grinned and released her, but only enough to reclaim her hand. "Tea?"

"Tea," she agreed, so they continued down the hall and into the kitchen.

A few minutes, a burnt finger, and a whistling kettle later, he heard his former companion enter the room. "Milk?" he asked without turning.

"Yeah," Ace said, and from her voice he could tell she was still exhausted. "So, Doctor…you wanted to talk?"

Once he dropped in the tea bags, he picked up two of the mugs and carried them to the table. He set them down and, moments later, returned with his own. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"

"The beginning?" Ace's eyebrow arched momentarily as she smiled. "We could be sitting here for a while."

"The Teralnishtapins?" he prompted.

"Right. I'd just popped in to pick up some pastries from one of the shops on the rue. I had to drop off the bike in one of my safe houses – can't let anyone see the anachronistic tech, after all – so I was just walking to the shop. Wanted to pick up something for my mate Marie, too, but first I wanted the pastries. But, before I could get there, I noticed something strange. Whenever the Rift's used, it leaves behind this smell. Kinda like ozone, really. And I could smell a lot of ozone."

A lot of ozone? Could mean a number of things, really. A rainstorm had just come through or an incursion through the Rift.

"I decided to look down one of the alleys, thinking that maybe, just maybe, I'd see something. So I left the main street and headed into the alley. Which was a mistake. I didn't even think of looking when I turned the corner at the end of the alley and walked right into the Teralnishtapins. Before they started chasing me, though, I noticed something. There was someone behind them, someone with blue skin. And they were holding something that looked like a stick. I swear I heard one of them say my name when they spotted me, but before I could do anything the Teralnishtapins attacked. They wounded me, I ran, and, well, you know the rest."

Sadly, there were many species that could fit the description of 'blue-skinned'. But what species would have a pack of Teralnishtapins at their beck and call? What species would have a stake in destroying the universe?

"Ace, have you noticed anything else? Anything that's seemed out of sorts with the Rift? Strange fluctuations, perhaps?"

She shook her head. "Not that I've seen."

"Hmm. Then it looks like we need to look at this situation a bit differently." He tapped his finger against the side of his cup as a slow smile spread across his face. "Research! Investigating! Oh, yes, that'd be perfect. Go back to the scene of the crime. See what there is to see. Gather evidence, talk to the locals, and then see if we can figure out what our blue-skinned alien friend wants."

"You mean besides me served up on a platter with a side of chips?" Ace asked.

"Or destroying the universe?" Rose added.

"That'd do for a start." He grinned brightly and, saluting them with his mug of tea, he took another sip.

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3: The Key

**Chapter 3: The Key**

Two hours later, Rose was convinced that she never wanted to return to Paris or, to be truthful, France ever again. The smell alone was enough to encourage that thought. After walking through slippery alleyways, shifting detritus and, in general, indulging the Doctor's favourite pastime of 'snooping', they had little to nothing to show for their efforts beyond the muck on their clothes.

They'd started where they'd fought off the Teralnish-whatevers, but there was nothing there save for scuffle marks on the ground and scattered piles of rubbish. Tracing Dorothée's haphazard path through the alleys was difficult – not because it was hard to determine just where she'd turned but because the general state of the alleys deteriorated the further that they got from the main street.

At least she knew that she never wanted to know exactly what they'd walked through.

"Cruk," Dorothée muttered, summing up her own thoughts rather well once they reached the spot where she'd apparently first encountered the Teralnish-whatevers. "There's nothing here. They couldn't've vanished or used the Rift. It's not a transit station. Doesn't work like that. So they've got to still be around here. But where?"

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and fiddled with its settings. "Oh, not many places a blue-skinned alien and an entourage of Teralnishtapins could go in early twentieth century Paris. At least, not openly. Now, late twentieth century Paris… they probably could've walked into Notre Dame without anyone blinking an eye."

She shook her head. Of course he'd think that. Then again, a blue-skinned alien probably wouldn't've been out of place in twenty-first century London either. "So they probably stuck to the alleys. Or went back to their ship. But, if they came through the Rift, wouldn't someone have, oh, noticed a ship coming through?"

Dorothée shrugged. "Most of the time people ignore what comes through the Rift unless it hurts them. Probably the same reason people walk right past the TARDIS without really seeing it. Unless it affects them directly, it doesn't matter."

She bit her lower lip and sighed. "It's a bit like being Chicken Little, isn't it? Cryin' out that the sky is fallin' and no one believes you, even though it is."

The Doctor suddenly grinned, the sonic screwdriver's hum filling the alleyway with sound. "Oh, Rose Tyler, you're brilliant! People don't look up, yes. But you know where they never look? Never, ever? Especially when they're in a city?"

What was he going on about now? She and Dorothée shared a perplexed look, but, before either of them could reply, the Doctor continued. "They never look down! Ha!"

He nudged a pile of rubbish aside with his trainer to reveal a manhole cover.

Oh. As if she wasn't already covered in enough muck. "In the sewers?"

He grinned. "In the sewers!"

Great.

* * *

Well, at least it wasn't a quarry.

Dorothée shook her head as she helped the Doctor shift the manhole cover. Inky blackness was the only thing that greeted them. That, at least, was a bonus. "And how're we supposed to see when we get down there? Somehow I doubt we'll find a light switch."

He shifted and reached into one of his pockets. "I'm sure I've got something-" And she was struck by a pang of nostalgia for the Professor, _her_ Professor, as the Doctor pulled out bits and bobs from his jacket. "-A roll of duct tape? No, that won't do. Bit of twine. A jelly baby. Oh! Haven't seen a ball like that in years. A Betamax tape – thought I'd got rid of that. And… Aha! Here it is. One torch. Only slightly used." He flicked the switch, but nothing happened. It was only after he rapped it against the concrete that it turned on.

"And slightly battered," Rose added with a grin.

The Doctor didn't bother to answer her, instead aiming the newly lit torch into the darkness. "Only one thing to do, and that's to go down. I'll head down first and light the way. Mind the rungs; they look a little…sticky." Putting the end of the torch in his mouth, he began to descend, carefully aiming the light beam below him.

Only one thing for it, really. Knowing him, he was bound to get into trouble the instant he set foot off the lower rung. That never changed – no matter the regeneration. She was about to follow him when she paused to look at Rose. "Want to go first?"

Rose shook her head. "I'll follow along behind. That way, if the two of you 'ave any problems, I'll have a chance of gettin' you out of it."

She considered the other woman's words carefully before she decided that, yes, she trusted her enough to do just that. "Okay."

So she climbed down after the Doctor. The rungs were sticky and she had to use a measure of force to pry her hands away from the metal as she descended. The walls were almost uncomfortably close and she didn't want to think about what was causing that smell, but she could ignore the discomfort. There were more important things to worry about.

Like this 'no future' problem and, of course, how Rose knew about it. Her original thought was that the Doctor had figured it out somehow from one of his instruments. But that didn't fit the facts. He'd looked surprised when Rose had given them the deadline of two days. Which meant he didn't know.

So what did that make Rose? A metaphorical 'Cassandra'? Able to tell the future, warn of signs and portents, and predict the end of the universe? She'd scoff if she could, but she couldn't possibly discount that theory. Maybe Rose was just that. She could easily be from a time and age where that was the norm. Or even another planet. She'd learned enough to know that just because someone looked human, they might not be.

When the walls disappeared, she shivered in reaction. She'd reached the bottom of the ladder, complete with the obligatory slimy green-tinged water. She grimaced as she stepped into the muck, carefully climbing onto the side of the tunnel next to the Doctor. "You always did take me to the nicest places."

He shot her a grin as they waited for Rose to join them.

Seconds passed them by and she realised that she couldn't even hear the sounds of the other woman's descent.

The Doctor walked to the ladder and looked upward. A moment later, he turned toward her, his expression grim. "She's not there."

Oh. Oh, cruk. "There must be another entrance. They might've..."

She didn't have the time to complete the sentence as the Doctor had dropped the torch into his pocket and was on the ladder and swiftly climbing.

Some things never do change. The Doctor – or his companion – would always find trouble. And, of course, if it was the companion that was in trouble the Doctor would always, always, rescue them.

She had a moment to regret that she hadn't stopped by the TARDIS weapons locker as she followed the Doctor again.

A good batch of Nitro Nine might turn out to be rather useful.

* * *

_Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose._

Her name was a mantra in his mind. She had to be safe. He'd done it again, of course. Just gone off on his tangents, jumped merrily into danger, and had left her behind. He should've been the last one down. He should've let Ace go first, then Rose, then him.

That would've been the clever thing to do.

But, when it counted, like now, his cleverness had failed him.

_Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose._

Damn the rungs. Damn the delay in his ascending the ladder. Damn the universe for whatever had happened to her.

Maybe she was just talking to a local. Maybe someone had noticed the manhole cover and decided to ask why it was off the access-way? No. Now he was reaching.

_Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose._

He slowed his frantic pace as he neared the top. There was no telling what he might find outside of the access hatch. More Teralnishtapins? The blue-skinned alien? Or just Rose, talking to a local?

He strained his senses but he could hear nothing beyond the sound of his and Ace's breathing and the low whistle of the wind. Right. Enough caution.

When he poked his head out of the tunnel, he didn't see anything particularly suspicious beyond the obvious absence of his companion. He lifted himself out and moved to the side to give Ace some room as he scanned the alleyway. Nothing.

There was absolutely nothing to see. No sign of a struggle. No nothing. Just rubbish bins, muck, and assorted debris.

_Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose._

"We were only in the tunnel for a few minutes," Ace said as she moved to his side. "They wouldn't have enough time to get too far."

"We'll have to split up," he decided. "You take one way, I'll take the other. Meet back here in ten minutes. If something happens, I'll find you."

"Me too," Ace replied with a nod. She headed off one way while he took the other.

Rose'd be fine, he tried to console himself. She was brave and clever and knew how to take care of herself.

She'd be fine.

Oh, Rose. There were so many things he should've done differently...

Right. Enough of that. Rose needed him. And, if necessary, he'd rip the city apart to find her.

That was when he heard it. Just at the edge of his hearing, he could hear it. He moved closer. It was a bit clearer now, but he could barely understand it. Definitely wasn't French or English, though.

Ah, yes. It was alien.

_"Are you sure this is the one?"_

_"That's what this says, you idiot. It hasn't led us astray before!"_

No, no, no. He recognised that language. Hadn't heard it in years – centuries, really – but he knew it far too well. Caxtarid.

There were Caxtarids on Earth, but whatever for? Couldn't be the Rift. At least, he didn't think so. Caxtarids were interested in revenge, not instant travel through time. There had to be something else, something that he was missing.

He edged closer.

_"But this one...that's not possible. It can't take this form, can it?"_

_"Apparently, it can. The legends say that it could take any shape, living or inanimate. Can be any size, too."_

Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach at the thought the suddenly came to him. He couldn't've been right. No. Oh, no. No, no, no, no. Not that. Anything but that.

They were just around the corner, judging from the sounds.

_"OW! Damn it, she bit me!"_

_"An' I'll do more than that if you don't let me go!"_

Rose. They had Rose! His brow furrowed as he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. Maybe he could distract them long enough to give her a chance to escape.

He could hear the sound of flesh hitting flesh and a loud grunt from the impact. Rose! If they'd hurt her, they would have him to answer to. He edged to the corner.

_"Keep quiet, girl!"_

_"You can hit me all you want. I won't help you."_

_"You won't have a choice."_

He peered around the corner. Two Caxtarids and a pack of Teralnishtapin. And, of course, Rose.

Her lip was bleeding freely, but she still glared at her captors. "There's always a choice. An' you wanna know what my choice is? It's no."

"No?" The taller of the Caxtarids asked, laughing as he obviously tightened his grip on her arm. "Oh, Kraal, this one's feisty."

The newly identified Kraal peered at something in his hands – if only the Teralnishtapin weren't crowding around the Caxtarids, he might be able to see. "She might be feisty, but it doesn't matter. None of that'll matter."

"Destroyin' the universe doesn't matter?" Rose scoffed.

"Destroying the universe? Oh, clever girl, but you're wrong. This has nothing to do with destroying the universe. It has everything to do with saving it." Kraal replied, leaning toward her. "You think you know what we're planning? You don't. But there's more to your words than that, isn't there? More to you than meets the eye, no? That's okay. We already know."

"You don't know anything." Rose replied, and he could almost, almost see a hint of gold reflected in her eyes.

Enough of this.

He stepped away from the corner and into the alleyway, brandishing his sonic screwdriver like the weapon it wasn't. Only the Caxtarids didn't know that. He hoped. "Let her go."

The Caxtarids turned toward him and, now, he could finally see what was in Kraal's hands.

A tracer.

He'd been right but, oh, how he wished he'd been wrong.

"No," Kraal said as he moved closer to Rose.

"No? Oh, no's a very dangerous word. Very, very dangerous. And you know why?" He smiled but there was no humour in it, only a deadly promise. "Because you never, ever say no to me."

"And that's supposed to scare us?" Kraal asked.

Rose answered for him. "Yes."

The Caxtarids laughed. "Such bravado. We could let you have her, of course, but she's needed."

_By me,_ he thought to himself. "You can't have her."

Kraal smiled as he closed the distance between himself and Rose.

It only took a second. The merest, briefest second for the tracer to touch Rose's cheek.

It only took a second for golden light to surround her. A second, just a tiny, insignificant second.

It only took a single beat of his hearts for the light to fade, though his shout of denial did not.

When it was over, when the second had passed, he realised the truth.

Rose Tyler was gone.

And in her place was a chunk of clear crystal – a fragment of the Key to Time.

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4: Fragmented

**Chapter 4: Fragmented**

Now, where exactly could one hide a blonde-haired girl in Paris? Plenty of places, surely. In a house, down an alley, in the sewers. But timing was an issue. Only way they could've got far would be to use a transmat beam, especially since she doubted that Rose was playing the damsel in distress. She'd fight her captors. She'd struggle. She'd leave some sort of trail.

After all, that'd be what she'd do.

However, she could find nothing. Nothing more than the same debris-strewn alleys and muck-covered pavement. No signs of a struggle, no signs of any human – or alien - passage other than her own.

"Bollocks," she muttered and turned around, intent on returning to the Doctor. Perhaps he'd had better luck.

When she reached the alleyway five minutes later he wasn't there. Sure, she was a minute overdue from their time limit of ten minutes, but he should be here.

Unless...

He might be in trouble. No, wait. He was the Doctor. Definitely trouble, then. Which meant that she, as usual, would have to rescue him.

Only one thing for it, really. She set off to find him, keeping her eyes on the ground to try and track his earlier movements and her other senses strained for some indication that he was about. A sound, a scrap of fabric, anything.

Then she heard it. So loud, so sudden, so full of anguish.

A shout of what? Denial? Grief?

She growled low in her throat as she sprinted toward the sound, desperate to reach it. She wasn't certain of why she suspected – no, why she _knew_ – that it was the Doctor, just that she did. And that certainty lent her greater speed.

Hurry, hurry, hurry. She could see something just ahead. Just a glimpse, but she knew it was the Doctor. She was almost upon him when it happened.

The noise stopped. No more emotional outbursts. Nothing.

Now that she could see his face, she knew that something terrible had happened. Rose. No, please, no. She couldn't be...

"Give her back to me." The words were spoken calmly, dangerously, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise in reaction. She'd never heard him sound like that. Not when he was still her Professor. Not even when she was in danger.

An unfamiliar voice laughed. "Oh, no. This is ours. We won it fair and square. What is the human term? Oh, yes, 'you snooze, you lose'."

She edged closer to the corner. She had to see this man, judge if she could take him out, rescue Rose, and get the Doctor out of there. Though the Time Lord seemed to be in complete control, she could see the truth.

A part of him was slowly beginning to unravel.

"I gave you a warning. There are no second chances."

"That's exactly right," the voice replied and – ah, now she could see them. Two Caxtarids and the Teralnishtapins. But no Rose. What the bloody hell? "For-"

"Kraal," a second Caxtarid said urgently, interrupting him. "There's another signal."

"What? Here?" Kraal's attention wavered slightly, but not enough for her to take action.

"This city, this planet," the Caxtarid confirmed.

"Oh, so sorry to dash, my friend." Kraal apologised as he picked up something like looked like a piece of crystal. "I've got work to do, but my friends will keep you entertained." The Caxtarid turned toward the Teralnishtapins. "Kill him."

"No!" the Doctor shouted to little avail as, a moment later, the Caxtarids were snatched away by a transmat beam. Which left the Time Lord – and, in turn, herself – facing a group of slobbering Teralnishtapins.

She darted out into the open and grabbed his arm, tugging urgently. "C'mon, Doctor, run!"

He paused, breathing hard, shock and disbelief written across his face, and she wondered if she'd have to struggle with him as well as the creatures. However, the roar of the Teralnishtapins seemed to convince him.

They ran.

"Second verse, same as the first," she muttered as they turned down the next alley. Only, this time, she wasn't injured, and they didn't have a Dante-Katsume photon emitter.

Bollocks!

What she wouldn't give for a nice canister of Nitro Nine...

* * *

Time.

He was a Time Lord and he didn't have enough time. Never enough time. Not time enough to save Rose, not time enough to save them.

No time.

All he would've needed were a few seconds. Just a few tiny seconds and he could've traced the transmat beam and brought them back. He was good at transmat reversals. But, no, the Teralnishtapins were hungry and had apparently decided that Time Lord would make a perfect midday snack.

Which was keeping him from Rose.

Rose.

He should've guessed. He should've _known_. But, no, he'd continued on in ignorance, thinking that everything that had happened to her was just because of Bad Wolf.

Now he knew better. Bad Wolf was only the start. She was a fragment of the Key to Time. Another Princess Astra and he hadn't even realised.

Oh, Rose.

He had to dodge as one of the Teralnishtapins took an experimental swipe at him, the loud rip of fabric heralding the loss of part of his jacket. He had to think of something. They couldn't run forever and hunger leant the creatures extra speed.

"MEAT!" one of the aliens growled from behind them.

"This is getting old!" Ace complained from beside him as they sprinted down another alley.

He knew exactly how she felt. Right. Enough running. It was time they figured out a way of stopping their pursuers.

Teralnishtapins. Teralnishtapins. What did he know about their homeworld? Heavy gravity and water. Lots and lots of water. Now there was something important about that. Water.

What was it? If only he could...

Ace pulled him off his current course and down another alley. Belatedly, he realised that he'd almost run into a wall while he was lost in his thoughts.

"Salt!" he exclaimed in triumph. That was it! "Teralnishtapins are allergic to salt. Well, when I say 'allergic', I really mean that they'll melt on contact with salt. Or was it explode? Can't remember. Which means…" He steered them toward the street, increasing his pace. There had to be a market, or even a restaurant around. Somewhere that he could get salt. Any type of salt would do, really. Table, sea, whatever.

When they reached the street, the Teralnishtapins hot on their heels, he did a quick scan of the shops lining the street. "Why is there never a Tesco Metro around when you need one? Oh, yeah, cause this is Paris. And, of course, they closed down all the Marks and Spencers in France... Oh, wait. This is before that ever happened. Haven't even crossed the channel yet. Well, doesn't matter anyway."

"Doctor, over there!" Ace directed his attention just down the street. A few doors down, small sign – no wonder he'd missed it before - ah, yes. It looked like an épicerie, small, probably owner-run.

"Brilliant!" he praised her and turned in that direction.

"MEAT!" the leader of the Teralnishtapins shouted again.

"Unimaginative lot, aren't they?" he observed as they ran toward the grocer's. He regretted leading the aliens out onto the street, but it was, thankfully, semi-deserted. Hopefully the people who would see them would dismiss this particular event as the result of a little too much to drink the night before.

Hopefully.

Well, he'd sort it later if he had to. He wrenched open the door and burst inside, scanning the small shop quickly. "Salt?" he asked the startled shopkeeper.

The other man pointed down one of the aisles. "Second shelf."

"Ta! Oh, and you might want to duck..." He dashed down the indicated aisle and pulled off boxes of salt, handing them to Ace. "Open these, scatter them on the ground."

Ace nodded and began to do as he asked, the ripping sound of the containers echoing through the small shop. The Teralnishtapins should be here any…

"Hey! You can't do that! You haven't paid for them!" The shopkeeper interrupted his thoughts. Oh, of course the human wouldn't listen. When he told someone to duck, it was a good idea to…

_CRASH!_

The door must've burst open. He could hear the growl of the aliens as they entered the store.

The shopkeeper turned toward the noise, but his protest died on his lips. "Mon Dieu!"

"Oi! Shopkeeper! Get over here!" Ace commanded, spurring the other man into action.

The man rushed toward them, followed closely by the Teralnishtapins. The aliens were no longer concerned with just getting him. They just wanted food. Wonderful. He pulled another package of salt off the shelf and tore off the top.

Right. The shopkeeper hurried past them, but his attention wasn't upon the other man. It was on the Teralnishtapins. They were getting closer to their salt ring. Closer…closer…

Oh, he was going to regret this.

The problem with Teralnishtapins and contact with salt was the reaction was instantaneous. And rather dramatic. Well, he amended the thought as the first creature exploded, he really meant volatile.

Ace threw the contents of her package of salt at the remaining Teralnishtapins as he did the same. Probably wasn't the nicest thing he could've done for the poor cowering shopkeeper behind them, but he had saved his life. Had to count for something, right?

"Yeah, sorry about that," he apologised as he picked a remnant of a Teralnishtapin off his jacket. "Here." He reached into his pocket and, after pulling out a couple of large denomination francs, he tossed them at the other man. "That should help you fix things up around here."

"Wha-what were those things? Who are you?" The shopkeeper was dazed.

"A friend," he replied. "Come on, Ace. We've got work to do." Without bothering to wait for a reply, he headed out of the shop at almost a run.

One problem was fixed. Now he had to find Rose – _oh, Rose, please be safe_ – and stop the Caxtarids from assembling the entire Key.

It never rained, but it poured.

* * *

The Doctor was just ahead of her, his speed increasing with every moment until they were both at a full sprint. She wondered if he noticed, but somehow she doubted it. He was desperate to rescue Rose.

What she couldn't understand, however, was why she hadn't seen Rose. She'd seen Caxtarids, the Teralnishtapin, and the Doctor but the most conspicuous thing about it was that she hadn't spotted Rose. There wasn't a location to hide her – not in that alleyway – and it certainly couldn't explain why the Doctor had behaved as if Rose were there, in the Caxtarids' clutches.

Maybe they'd already sent her off somewhere via that transmat beam? No. That wouldn't explain the Doctor's expression. He'd acted as if Rose was there, in front of him, and just within his reach.

But why? And how?

She shook her head. The only one with any answers wasn't talking and probably wouldn't until they were back in the TARDIS and well on their way to finding Rose. He'd always played his cards close to his chest. This wasn't any different. Only, this time, she wished that there was something else that she could do.

It only took another minute to reach the TARDIS and slip inside. The Doctor hurried to the main console, flipping switches and muttering to himself as he practically danced around the controls. She could only catch a few phrases – "Key", "Rose", "Bad Wolf", and something that sounded like a curse word, but the TARDIS wouldn't translate it.

"Doctor?"

Nothing. He just muttered some more and slapped his palm against the console.

"Doctor!" she tried again, raising her voice.

He paused only for a moment to shoot her a glare before returning his attention to the controls. "What? I'm busy!"

"Mind telling me what happened back there? And I'm not talking about the exploding Teralnishtapins. What happened to Rose?"

She must've said a magic word. Either that or the one thing that could possibly break him. His hands stilled their frantic movements over the controls and he braced himself against the console. The Doctor's face was expressionless only in that she could see the effort that it took to prevent the cracks in his armour from widening.

Oh, hell. What the cruk had happened back there?

"She's gone."

Before she could do more than open her mouth to express her disbelief – how could Rose be gone when he'd been acting as if she were still alive? Unless he was implying that she had been transmatted away before the Caxtarids. No. That still didn't make sense. Not with how he was reacting. – he continued. "She's a fragment, Ace. A piece of the Key to Time."

The Key to what? Time? Since when had time needed a key? She could definitely feel a headache coming on.

She realised belatedly that he was still talking. "-the Caxtarid caused her to revert to the natural state of the Key."

Definite headache. "She's a piece of a key?" Revert. He'd said that Rose'd reverted to the natural state of the key. The only thing that she'd seen that was out of place of a Parisian alley was that crystal that Kraal had picked up just before they'd transmatted away. "Wait a mo', you're telling me that Rose Tyler was somehow turned into a chunk of crystal?"

"Exactly," he replied. "And now they're searching for the last piece of the Key."

"So, this is why the future's going to be destroyed in two days? Because of this Key?" Massive headache.

"Yes."

Simple question, simple answer.

"Well, cruk." That summed up her thoughts rather well, really. Rose was a piece of a Key and the Doctor was falling apart before her eyes. This really was turning out to be one of her better days.

Yeah, right.

"Now if I can only change some of the TARDIS' protocols, we might be able to-" He flipped a switch. "-trace the transmat beam and, possibly, find the sixth piece of the Key before they do. We know it's in Paris, at least. And in this time zone."

It was a plan. Not much of one, admittedly, but a plan. "So, say we find the sixth piece and keep it away from the Caxtarids. How do we get Rose back?"

He paused again to give her another glance. "Break the tracer beacon. That'll shatter the Key, scattering the pieces throughout time and space. Last time I had to do this, oh, several hundred years ago, the fragments were still in one piece after they were separated. Princess Astra was fine afterwards, went back home, had a family. Nice and simple."

Oh, no. Not nice and simple. Not at all. What was there to say that Rose wouldn't end up in some other time zone? Some other planet? All of time and space? That was one hell of a haystack. "What about Rose, though? She gets sent off through time and space, there's no guarantee we'll know where she'd end up."

The Doctor spun a knob and turned toward her. "Oh, I know exactly where she'll end up. Back in 2006, Powell Estates, London. Back at the beginning, really. All we'll have to do is pop by and pick her up. See? Easy!" He grinned at her and returned his attention to the controls.

If she hadn't been paying attention, she never would've heard his next words. They were spoken more to himself than to anyone else but they gave her little hope.

"At least, I hope so."

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5: Priceless

**Chapter 5: Priceless **

_Rose._

Seconds stretched into minutes stretched into hours without a sign, without a signal that he could trace. He'd followed the first transmat beam, but the Caxtarids were too clever by half. They'd immediately transmatted again. Without that signal trace, he couldn't find them.

Now, there was nothing out there. Absolutely nothing. How was he supposed to find Rose if he couldn't find a couple of pompous universe-destroying Caxtarids?

How the bloody hell was he supposed to save her?

Despair threatened to overwhelm him, but he refused to let it gain more purchase within his soul. There had to be something he could do. Here he was, brilliant Time Lord, last of his kind, inside his ship, his beautiful ship, and he couldn't find Rose Tyler. Admittedly, she wasn't his Rose anymore. She was a fragment…

Oh! Oh, stupid, stupid, _stupid_! He'd been looking at the problem in the wrong way. No transmat signal was a problem, yes. Sure, he couldn't follow something that he didn't have a frequency to.

But he did have a signal to trace. Oh, yes, he did.

Because he had something that no one else did. He had the TARDIS - his lovely, brilliant, beautiful ship. And he had something else. He'd seen the Key before. Held it in his hands even.

Held it in his hands _inside_ the TARDIS.

Ha! That meant he could trace the fragments even without the tracer. All he had to do was find the frequency again… "YES!" he exclaimed, frantically flipping switches and turning knobs in the hope of coaxing the sensors to find something that they'd encountered but once before.

"Yes, what?" Ace asked, her voice barely audible over his hurried movements.

"Oh, come on, come on," he cajoled the controls as he stared at the viewscreen, barely able to breathe.

"Doctor..."

He held up one hand to signal for silence as his other reached into his pocket to pull out his glasses. Slipping them onto his nose, he peered through the lenses at the viewscreen.

It was so faint that he'd almost missed it, a tiny blip in the far right corner but it was there. It was there! Oh, yes! Yes! He grinned so widely it hurt.

"Found it!" A flip of another switch and they were on their way, the temporal rotor's pulse casting varying shades of light and dark upon the rest of the console room.

"Damnit, Doctor, would you crukking tell me what's going on? What did you find?"

Ah, yes. Ace. He'd rather forgotten her once he'd decided upon a course of action. He was about to answer when the TARDIS shuddered beneath their feet. Oh, that was not good. Not good at all.

He braced himself against the console and noticed that he didn't have to tell Ace to mirror his actions – she'd grabbed onto the railing as the TARDIS began to buck around them.

Only one thing could cause this – and it wasn't shoddy piloting.

"Time storm!" he shouted, his expression grim as he tried to stabilise their flight through the Vortex. He'd seen this before. Just once, but he hadn't been in a state to do more than coax the TARDIS out of the Vortex.

And then he'd had to wait. Wait, shivering from mingled despair and grief, for the regeneration sickness to wear off. And he'd had to wait for the Vortex to stop churning with the destruction that the Time War left in its wake.

He knew what had caused this. These were ripples. Reflections of what would be if he couldn't stop the Caxtarids.

The storm was the precursor to the end of the universe.

The TARDIS screamed around him, her polyphasic shell creaking from the force of the storm. She was coming apart around him.

No!

No. He wouldn't let it happen, couldn't let it happen. He twisted a knob with more force than was strictly necessary, but it worked. The TARDIS's shuddering faded away until the only sound was the gentle pulse of the time rotor as they settled to a stop at their final destination.

They were safe.

But for how long?

When he turned toward Ace to explain what had happened, he froze. Her eyes reflected the same emotions that echoed through his soul. Despair, grief, anger, loss. She knew. Of course she knew.

She was in the War. She'd seen the consequences. She'd probably even had to travel through a storm to get back to Earth. She knew – who else? – what it meant.

But she said nothing about the storm or their mutual past. Instead, she gestured toward the doors. "Do you know where we are?"

"I always know where we are. Except for when I don't. In this case, however, I know exactly where we are. Provided that we weren't knocked off course, we should be right next to the sixth fragment of the Key to Time." He hoped they hadn't been knocked off course. The force of the storm was enough to indicate that the timetable was, if anything, shortening.

He hadn't given voice to his second fear. They might've arrived at the right place and at the right time, but they might be too late.

Too late for Rose, yes.

But, most especially, too late for the universe.

* * *

It was amazing, really, how quickly she'd fallen into old habits. Just seeing him again – even though he wasn't _her_ Professor – had brought out some of her previous traits. Oh, she'd been a violent thing in her youth – still was, admittedly, but she liked to think that dealing with the Rift on her own for so long had mellowed her. Blow something up here, blow something else up there. Wasn't an adventure with the Professor without a canister of Nitro Nine.

Nor was it an adventure without pain. Without fear or danger or manipulation. Without worry or temptation. Without joy or happiness or relief. Without, mostly, saving the day. She'd learned that from him. That was life. Her life now, too, despite falling back on old habits.

She was Time's Vigilante. Defender of the Parisian Rift. But, right now, she was mostly scared. Not for herself – she'd been around too long and had seen too much for that. No, she was scared for the Doctor. She'd never seen him look like that before.

Right. Enough contemplation. They had work to do. And, before she set foot out of the TARDIS' doors, she was arming herself.

"Be right back," she told him, willing him not to leave the TARDIS without her.

Time was short, but, thankfully, the TARDIS had shifted rooms for her. She'd barely walked through the door that led to the interior of the TARDIS before she found herself next to her old room. And, yes, right on the dresser were three canisters of Nitro Nine in a rucksack.

A slow, almost predatory, grin crossed her face as she picked up the bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Wicked," she murmured to herself in self-congratulation.

She hurried back to the console room, but, unsurprisingly, the Doctor was already gone. Which meant one of two things, really. One, he'd found the fragment and had already saved the day. Or, two, he was in trouble.

Of the two choices, she favoured the latter as the most likely.

Without hesitation, she ran toward the doors but, despite her earlier speed, she opened them cautiously. One never knew what might be lurking beyond the relative safety of the blue police box and she certainly didn't fancy landing herself in the same mess that the Doctor had undoubtedly found himself in. At least, she amended, not yet.

She wasn't certain what she was expecting when she slipped outside, but it certainly wasn't Leonardo da Vinci's _Virgin on the Rocks_. The TARDIS had materialised close enough to the painting that she feared she might trigger a burglar alarm. Wait a minute.

She knew exactly where she was. This was the Louvre. So the sixth fragment was something in the museum?

No, she scolded herself silently. That wasn't important. What was important was finding the Doctor. And, thankfully, it appeared that it was after-hours at the Louvre. Though while that meant random patrols of guards, it also meant relative freedom to search for her friend.

When she slipped around the side of the TARDIS, she finally got an inkling of the grandeur of the gallery. She'd lived in Paris for a while, but she'd never had a chance to visit the Louvre. She'd always been too busy trying to protect the planet from the next alien invasion through the Rift. Not to mention trying to prevent the occasional end of the universe.

Right. Now where could one slightly geeky-looking Time Lord hide himself in the Louvre? She sighed as she answered her own question. Anywhere.

Bloody hell.

Well, she might as well pick a direction and pray she'd picked the right one. So, left it was.

* * *

The empty, silent halls echoed ominously as he hurried through them, intent on reaching the fragment before the Caxtarids. He might already be too late, but that didn't matter. He had to try.

Left? No, right. The sonic screwdriver pulsed in his hand, giving him directions through the maze-like passages of the Louvre. He'd never truly cared for museums after the doors were shut and the tourists were gone.

They reminded him far too much of home. The Panopticon had been full of similar stuffy halls and fancy imagery. But, ultimately, it'd been dead. A lifeless hulk full of boring stuffed-shirts and pompous ideals. Now that was true in every sense of the word.

Dead.

Just like Gallifrey.

His jaw clenched as he turned the next corner. The gallery was familiar for some reason. Maybe he'd been there before in a past life. His fourth incarnation had visited the Louvre before, after all. The signal was getting stronger.

It should be just around the corner...

An unexpected noise caused him to freeze, his senses straining to see if he could identify what he'd heard. It could've, after all, been Ace following behind him. He hadn't waited for her, but he'd been in a hurry. Tick tock, tick tock.

The seconds stretched into a minute as he waited for a repeat of the sound. However, there was nothing. All he could hear was the sound of his breathing and the creak of the building as it settled. Dismissing it as his imagination, he decided to continue, slipping around the corner and into a tiny alcove.

There was only one painting, but it was one that he knew all too well. He'd seen seven others like it, all originals, all created by the master himself.

_The Mona Lisa._

"Now that's ironic," he murmured to himself as he realised just what the sixth fragment of the Key was.

"I'd agree," a new voice said from behind him.

He was about to turn around, but the pressure from what could only be the barrel of a weapon arrested the movement.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Drop your sonic device."

"And if I don't?" he asked, trying to buy himself time. Maybe he could change the settings on the sonic screwdriver and disrupt the...

"You die."

His jaw clenched. Well, he could always rely on the tried and true method of prattling his way out of this particular problem. However, he doubted that the Caxtarid – he recognised the voice - would be particularly susceptible to his words.

The sonic screwdriver fell to the floor from his hand.

"Clever man. But you'd have to be, wouldn't you, to trace us here."

"That's me. Clever. Cleverer than most, actually. Because I know what you're going to do." He wanted to turn, wanted to gauge the Caxtarid's reaction from the dilation of his pupils, his breathing, his stance. But he couldn't. Not yet.

"You do?" The Caxtarid sounded amused. "Then why don't you tell me. What am I about to do?"

"Something very, very stupid. You're meddling with powers that you haven't a chance of being able to comprehend. One wrong move – and, believe me, you're about to make one – and you'll destroy the entire fabric of the space-time continuum. You want to change history, don't you? Make a tiny alteration, but you can't go back far enough, can you? You want the Key to do it for you. Simpler that way. Easier. No thought involved. Just tell it what you want and - BOOM! - there it is. But that's not right. You've got it all wrong. And if you don't stop, you're going to destroy everything. Yourself, time, space, and the entire universe."

The Caxtarid laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "I like you, whoever you are. You've got a flair for the dramatic. But I'm afraid that that's where you're wrong. I'm not going to destroy the universe."

"You're not?" he repeated in disbelief. Hadn't the Caxtarid been listening to a word he'd said?

"No." He heard the ominous click of the safety being disengaged as the weapon's barrel pressed more firmly into his back. "I'm going to destroy you."

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6: The End of Everything

**Chapter 6: The End of Everything**

Next time she found him, she was going to fit him with a tracking device. For all his tendency to get into trouble without her – that certainly hadn't changed, even with all the years between them – he could be damned near impossible to find. Especially when he'd managed to lose himself in the maze that was the Louvre.

She'd travelled through gallery after gallery, seen the priceless treasures that were on display for any and all to see, but she hadn't found the Doctor or any indication that the Caxtarids had already arrived. All she'd managed to find was a small security patrol that she'd had to hide from in a room full of Roman antiquities.

Damnit. While she'd been trying to find the Doctor, anything might've happened. Well, anything save for the end of the universe. She doubt she'd've missed that. The Doctor was probably in danger, she was lost in a museum full of dusty artefacts, and she was running out of time.

She picked up her pace, peering into darkened galleries, jogging down halls and up stairs. If he'd managed to get himself injured or captured or both, she was going to kill him. He should've waited, but she knew why he hadn't. Not necessarily because the fate of the universe was at stake – though she was certain that had a part in it – but because Rose's life was in danger. She didn't want to think about it too closely, though. There were some things that she had no desire to know.

The low murmur of voices, punctuated by a few louder responses, echoed through the next gallery. She could barely make out what was being said, but what she could interpret was worrying enough to cause her to slow her pace and creep closer.

She could hear the Doctor's urgent voice. It was only through long familiarity that she could hear the desperation underlying his words. When she heard the response, she growled low in her throat. Like hell the Caxtarid would destroy the Doctor.

Not if she got to him first.

A lifetime ago, she'd been exposed to a virus. It'd caused her basest instincts to come to the fore. She'd become an animal, really. She'd regained her humanity, but those instincts had never left her. She'd never lost the territoriality or the instinct to protect those she considered under her care. The Caxtarid wouldn't have a chance.

She was silent as she moved down the hallway toward the source of the voices, but she paused as she realised that she could only hear two. The Doctor and one Caxtarid. Where was the Caxtarid's friend?

Ah, there he was. She could see him in the shadows across the hall, but his attention wasn't directed toward her but toward an alcove that she could only assume held the Doctor and the other alien.

Their voices were getting louder, the argument more fierce. There was no possibility of a victor in that verbal battle. The universe balanced precariously between the Doctor and the Caxtarid, but she could see the tip of the scales in her mind. A pull of the trigger, and the Doctor would be gone, leaving the Caxtarids free to assemble the Key.

No.

She wouldn't let that happen. She couldn't let that happen. They had to be stopped.

Closer now. So, so close. A misjudged step would bring them upon her. They might see her at any time now, so she moved even slower, more carefully. Easy, easy, easy. She could take out one of the Caxtarids, but only one. There was too much distance between the aliens. If she knocked out the one threatening the Doctor, that'd leave him free to react. If she took out the other alien, the Doctor might be killed.

There was only one choice. The one threatening the Doctor was doomed.

Closer still. She could almost, almost see them. The second Caxtarid had yet to spot her. If she could just stay hidden, stay silent, she'd only have one chance at this. One time. One moment to take care of the problem. Just one.

She froze as she heard the Caxtarid's voice again. "I've decided against destroying you just yet." She heard the weapon's safety click back into place. "You will get to have a - what's the phrase again? Oh, yes, a ring-side seat. The Key to Time has only been assembled once, according to legend. And, now, you'll get to see its second – and final – assembly. Grenal, get over here. You'll have to watch this one."

Oh, hell. If the second Caxtarid so much as turned his head a millimetre, he'd see her. She told herself to pretend she was invisible, not that that ever truly worked. However, luck was still with her. The newly identified Grenal walked across the hall and into the alcove without glancing around.

Great. Just great. Now she had two Caxtarids to deal with at the same time. She slipped the rucksack off her shoulder and carefully dug inside. The threat of destroying the building, and themselves with it, was something she could easily do. In weighing the universe versus her life, the universe would win out every time.

* * *

Idiots. Amateurs. Megalomaniac wannabes. Kraal hadn't listened to a word he said. The Caxtarid was blithely going about with his original plans, universe be damned. "Why? Why do all this? Why assemble the Key to Time? You're obviously planning on using it, but why? What's all this for?"

Kraal pulled the tracer from the bag that was slung across one shoulder. Regarding the slender rod thoughtfully, he replied, "There was a planet much like this one orbiting another star. Someone made the wrong choice and, after doing something completely stupid, it ended up killing all sentient lifeforms on that planet."

"Caxtar," he replied, easily identifying the planet. He knew that particular tale all too well. In his seventh incarnation, he'd been blamed for part of the Caxtar's problems by a pair of renegade Caxtarids. He'd tried to help, but to little avail.

He wasn't able to stop or prevent stupidity.

To quell an uprising, the Caxtaridian government unleashed a bio-engineered virus, specially engineered to target those who thought differently from the government. However, they hadn't counted on their inability to stop it. It killed without regard for whether the Caxtarid was a supporter of the uprising or not.

Six months after the initial release of the virus, most of the species had been lost save for a few Caxtarids who'd been off-world at the time.

Kraal blinked, apparently stunned. "Who are you?"

Why couldn't the villains of the story ever come up with original questions? He could be blithe about it and say that he was 'nightmare that all Evil fears', but that was too melodramatic. He could say that he was simply there to stop Kraal – which he was, but that wasn't an answer. Or he could go the simplest route of all, and, if the Caxtarid recognised his name, all the better.

"The Sontarans call me the Bringer of Darkness. The Cybermen call me the Deceiver. The Daleks and the Draconian Empire call me Ka Faraq Gatri – the Oncoming Storm. I am Time's Champion and the enemy of Evil. I have more names than I can recall, but only one is constant. You want to know who I am? Then I'll tell you. I am the Doctor."

The Caxtarid drew in a surprised breath. "That's impossible."

Ah, so Kraal had heard of him. He grinned. "Oh, impossible's easy. Improbable? Now, that's hard."

Kraal shook his head, apparently deciding against debating the topic. "You might be telling me the truth. You might not be. That doesn't matter. You're only delaying the inevitable." It only took a moment for the Caxtarid to press the tracer against the _Mona Lisa_.

It took far less time for the golden light to fade, leaving behind an empty frame and a crystal fragment that clattered against the floor.

"STOP!" he thundered, trying to prevent the Caxtarid from combining the Key. "You know who I am, Kraal. You know my reputation. Then you'll also know that I'm telling you the truth. You can't change the past that's already been written. You can't save Caxtar."

"That's where you're wrong, Doctor. I can do whatever I want." Kraal replied as he bent to pick up the crystal.

Only the warning shove of the weapon's barrel into his spine prevented him from trying anything beyond prattle. "Have you even thought it through? Have you even wondered 'if I do this, what happens next?' But you haven't, have you? You're just thinking in the moment. No consequences, right? That's where you're wrong. You're nothing more than a child playing with a gun, and you know what? You're about to shoot yourself in the head and you don't even realise it."

"You just want the Key to yourself. Or is it that you want your piece of the Key back?" Kraal smiled, but there was only maliciousness behind it.

"I just want to prevent you from making a mistake. You think the release of that virus was a mistake? Oh, and it was, but it happened all the same. That's written in stone. Can't be changed, because there are always, always consequences. What you're talking about doing, what you want to do, is far, far worse. Caxtar's gone, Kraal. You can't change that. Because, if you try, you'll-"

The Caxtarid interrupted him. "Again with the melodrama, Doctor."

Idiot! Stupid, bloody imbecile! "You're going to destroy everything!"

Kraal didn't answer. Instead, he began to reach into his bag for the second time but it was too late. He could feel the energy begin to build. The scent of ozone filled the air as the remaining pieces of the Key began to vibrate in response to the too-close presence of the last fragment.

Another moment. Another second. The Key fragments were freed of their confinement in the rucksack, all without Kraal's aid.

No. No, no, no, no, no! It wasn't supposed to happen like this. He knew that much. "NO!"

Another flash of light and the pieces were combined, spinning idly above them.

The Key was whole.

And he'd failed.

* * *

Damn it all to hell! She had no choice. None whatsoever.

She whispered a mental apology to the caretakers of the museum. They wouldn't appreciate what she was about to do. But, as she'd thought earlier, in the equation of the universe versus her life (or a few dozen priceless antiquities), the universe would always win.

The canister of Nitro Nine was in her hand and ready to be primed as she stepped into the alcove.

Kraal was about to touch the Key, but she couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't let that happen. "Stop right there, toe-rag," she snarled. "One more move towards that Key, and I'll set this off."

The Caxtarid whirled toward her, his eyes widening in shock. She took only a moment to take note of the tableau before her – Kraal was standing just in front of the empty picture-frame of what could only have been the _Mona Lisa_, the Doctor was still facing Kraal, and Grenal was just behind him – before returning her attention to the one person who was still in the position to dictate her actions.

One more move toward the Key, and she would do it. She would set off the explosive. She would kill them all.

"You're threatening me with a silver tube?" Kraal scoffed.

She fought the temptation to laugh in his face. How many times had someone misjudged one of her explosives? They were always, always proved wrong. "Appearances are deceiving. This silver tube happens to register nine on the Richter scale and my finger's on the detonator. So no sudden moves."

Kraal laughed. "You would be killing yourself, and your friend the Doctor, if you do that."

"Yeah," she agreed amicably. "I would be." Her eyes narrowed as she took a step closer until she was in the alcove with them, blocking the only exit. "But that's okay. If that's how it's supposed to happen, that's how it's supposed to happen. I'm willing to die to protect my beliefs – and I know he is, too. Are you willing to die for yours?"

She could practically see the thoughts whirling through the Caxtarid's head. He was probably wondering if he could distract her. Wondering if he could knock away the Nitro and get his hands on the Key. Or if he could get to the Key before she could trigger the explosion. Wondering any number of things, probably.

Kraal smiled triumphantly, almost as if he'd discovered something important, something that could sway her from her decision. "Then I suppose we're at an impasse."

"Suppose so." He was planning something. She knew he was. "Move away from the Key."

Kraal didn't move.

"Oi! You listening, toe-rag? I _said_ move away from the Key!" Great. Wonderful. Now the bloody Caxtarid had decided to fight back.

"No."

Crukking hell. Why did this always happen to her? Must be some sort of special bonus prize to having the title of Time's Vigilante. Damn it.

That was when the first blow hit her cheek. She reeled, her vision blurring from the impact. Grenal, she identified absently, as her training took over. She'd missed his movements. Hell, it was a rookie mistake. She should've known better.

Right. No more self-recrimination. More fighting. She whirled toward him – or, at least, tried to - but a sweep of the man's leg caught her own and sent her tumbling to the floor. At the moment of impact, the canister of Nitro Nine was released from her numbed fingers to roll out of reach.

Enough of this. She managed to brace her body against the ground and give her feet enough purchase to launch herself toward Grenal. If she could take him down...

Kraal. Oh, hell, Kraal was free to reach the Key.

While she was fighting, he'd already won.

No. She wouldn't think like that. She couldn't think like that. She just had to take out Grenal and then stop Kraal. She could do that. That'd be easy.

Simple, really.

That was all she could think.

Otherwise, she'd have to acknowledge that they'd lost. And she was far too stubborn for that.

* * *

He started to move the instant that Grenal's attention had wavered. Ace could take care of herself, he knew she could, and he had a far, far more important goal in mind. Kraal was close, so, so close to getting the Key.

The Caxtarid's fingers were outstretched, his fingertips so close to the glowing edges of the crystal. But that was okay.

He had a different goal in mind. It had taken a minute, even more, to consider just what to do with the Key. He should know. He'd dealt with it before. Which meant that he had time. Not a lot, admittedly, but enough to get to where he needed to be.

It'd only take a certain stretch of muscles, a tiny bit of Venusian aikido, and he could just...

YES!

His hand closed around the tracer and he wrenched it from the Caxtarid's hand. Kraal had forgotten it in his haste to reach the Key.

"HA!" he exclaimed, darting away from Kraal's clumsy retaliatory swipe.

"Doesn't matter," Kraal replied, grinning as he held up the Key. "I've got the Key!"

He grinned. "Oh, didn't I mention? The Key's got infinite cosmic powers, but no instruction manual." He held the tracer between his hands and brought it down upon his knee, breaking the device in two.

With a burst of brilliant gold light, the Key shattered into six fragments and disappeared.

_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7: All Things

**Chapter 7: All Things**

She was lost in a tumult of sensation. She was everywhere and nowhere. She was light and darkness. She was the universe contained with the miniscule spaces between the electron rings of an atom. She was a star, a planet, a thought, a dream, a wish.

She was the future, the past, the present. She was Time, and she frolicked through its fluttering pages of could bes and should bes and might bes with the carefree nature of a child. Nothing mattered here.

Not who she'd been or who she was. All that mattered was now, and now was time. Infinity stretched into the distance and she could see it, and touch it, and taste it, and be it. She could do anything, be anything.

The merest thought could change everything, but she didn't want change. Not now. Not when...

_Doctor._

A name?

No, no, more than that.

_I want you safe. My Doctor. Protected from the false god. _

The Doctor. _Her_ Doctor.

What was going on? Where was she? Why couldn't she see him? Why couldn't she feel anything other than an unspeakable sorrow? It filled her, became her. Time mourned the passing of a thousand timelines, a billion worlds. It grieved for the War that never was, but rippled throughout history. It mourned for the man, the wanderer, who would never know the truth.

It mourned for the girl. The valiant child who had healed him but could not return. Not now. Not ever. Not unless…

Oh. Oh, it hurt but it didn't. She was in pain, but she wasn't. It was so much. So, so much. She would've screamed had she lungs. She would've cried had she the ability. But she couldn't.

She was the universe and the universe was her. She was the TARDIS and the Vortex and the big Bad Wolf and she was hellos and forever goodbyes and then, with a suddenness that was almost too shocking for her to withstand, she was nothing at all.

* * *

Life, the Professor had always said, was an infinite chess game between Good and Evil. It'd taken on a different significance with Fenric – she suppressed a pang of betrayal that came with the thought; that was so long ago – but the meaning behind his words was the same. In the game of life, there were no winners. There were no losers. Just checkmates.

And, sometimes, there was collateral damage.

The Key was gone. Vanished in a burst of light and she'd only had enough time to spot the suddenly stricken look on the Doctor's face – god, what if they'd been wrong? - before Grenal was on her again.

The heavy Caxtarid was doing his best to pummel her to unconsciousness, but she was far too stubborn for that.

"Oh, no you don't, toe-rag," she hissed the words through her teeth. It'd only take a moment if she could just get her leg positioned there and her hand there...

Yes. She grinned at Grenal as she used a trick that she'd learned during her years as a mercenary. He made a rather satisfying _thump_ as he landed against the opposite wall.

"Checkmate," she whispered.

Judging him to be out of the fight, at least for the moment, she returned her attention to the two others crowded in the tiny alcove. The tableau hadn't changed much since before Grenal had attacked her. Only, this time, Kraal had an all too familiar look in his eyes.

Desperation.

A desperate man would make mistakes, would do something foolish, and would, in all likelihood, get himself (and anyone else he blamed for his problems) killed in the process.

She tried to move as carefully as possible, keeping her wary gaze trained upon him as she climbed to her feet. He'd startle, she knew he would, and then it'd be all she could do to keep both the Doctor and herself in one piece.

"You," Kraal snarled, stalking toward the Doctor.

She tensed, ready to fight despite the various aches and pains from her earlier battle.

"Me?" the Doctor asked.

The Caxtarid paced around him, keeping his stare hard upon the Doctor. She watched him carefully for any sudden moves. "I'd heard the legends, heard the myths, even met someone who'd claimed to have known you. I never believed them, of course. No such thing as the Doctor. No such thing as a meddling Time Lord. They don't exist. Never existed. They're nothing more than the dreams of a thousand civilizations, just like the Doctor. But they were right, weren't they? Here you are. Proud of yourself? Happy?"

The Time Lord's expression was inscrutable as Kraal walked around him, punctuating his comments with an accusing finger.

"Let me give you a number, Doctor. Just one. You know what that number is? It's ten billion. That's how many Caxtarids you've killed. Oh, sure, might've been a stupid mistake by someone in the government, but you enabled it. You let it happen. You made it happen. All for the sake of your stupid history. Well, guess what Doctor? You were right about something."

"Only something?" the Doctor asked mildly, but she could see that Kraal's words had affected him. "I'm right about most things. Well, when I say most, I really mean all. But I wouldn't want to boast."

"There are always consequences. Your little fragment's gone, Doctor. And you know what else?" Kraal lunged forward and gripped the Doctor by the throat, his blue fingers digging into her friend's skin. "Here's another consequence for you, Doctor. Your death isn't much of a consolation prize, but it'll have to do."

No!

The Doctor's hands were braced against the Caxtarid's arm, but he wasn't forcing the other man's hand away from his throat. What the hell did he think he was doing? There had to be something she could do, an opening, something. But, no. Kraal had been wise enough to keep the Doctor between them. He could see whatever movement she made or would make from that position. Despite her training, she couldn't avoid all physical tell-tale signs of her forthcoming actions.

"They would've died anyway, Kraal. You already know that. Why else are you doing this? One last chance to prove a point? That you were right all along? Or that you were wrong, but are too scared to admit it?" the Doctor replied, seemingly unconcerned by the pressure of the Caxtarid's fingers against his throat. Only the throaty nature of his voice, and the harshness of his breath, conveyed his distress.

"You're wrong, Doctor!" Kraal protested, but she could see a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

"Am I?" He choked out the words as the Caxtarid's hand tightened further, cutting off his air supply.

No. It couldn't end like this. It wouldn't end like this. She wouldn't let it. She frantically scanned the alcove for something, anything, that she could use against the Caxtarid. The canister of Nitro Nine was well out of reach. He'd be able to prevent her from reaching Grenal...

There had to be something she could do!

"Let him go!" she demanded, willing Kraal to listen to reason. Somehow, she doubted he'd do her the favour.

"Why?"

Simple question. Simple answer.

She opened her mouth to reply but somehow, someway, the Doctor managed to find enough air to beat her to it. "Because you wanted to stop your government from killing all those innocent lives. Because you don't want to kill me. And because, if you do this, you're no better than your government was."

There was no reaction to the Doctor's words beyond yet another tightening of Kraal's fingers around her friend's throat. That lack of positive response seemed to prompt the Time Lord to action.

She could see sorrow, resignation, and worry in the Doctor's expression. And, a moment later, in a flurry of movement almost too fast to be seen, he managed to free himself from the choke hold.

"Everything ends," he told the Caxtarid in a hoarse voice. His eyes were haunted as he spoke those words, almost as if they had some additional meaning.

She stepped forward and watched the subdued alien carefully. "You've lost," she said. What if that was wrong? What if they'd both lost? Kraal had lost his planet for the second time. But the Doctor…what if they'd lost Rose?

"For now," Kraal acknowledged, but she could see a warning glint in his eye. She'd seen that expression before. Beyond desperation, beyond anger, beyond everything but determination.

She opened her mouth to shout a warning, but it was too late. Far, far too late because the Caxtarid had already hit something on his jacket.

A split second later, Kraal was gone.

"Transmat." The word was a curse. Of course. She'd forgotten, but, then again, so had the Doctor. A quick glance to the side where Grenal had been slouched revealed a similar scene. He, too, was gone.

"Oh, I'm good with transmats," the Doctor replied as he bent to pick up his sonic screwdriver. "Brilliant, even." He changed the settings on the device before activating it.

She waited patiently for about thirty seconds. Nothing. "Doctor?"

"They must've transmatted again. I can't reverse the signal." He sighed, running his free hand through his hair.

"Guess Time's Vigilante's work is never done," she said, smiling faintly. "I'll keep an eye out for them. They're bound to try again, and, since I know where the sixth fragment-" she pointed at the newly restored _Mona Lisa_. "-is, they won't succeed."

A shadow crossed his face as he shook his head. "It's not as simple as that, Ace. The Key to Time changes shape, changes its identity. There's no guarantee that the next time the Key'll be the exact same objects – or people – it was before."

Oh. Oh, no. She didn't want to ask, but she had to know. "And Rose?"

He stilled, his face expressionless. The only fracture in his mask was the noticeable clench of his jaw. "I don't know."

"She's probably waiting for you back in 2006," she reasoned, willing him to believe it though she had her own doubts.

"Yeah." She could hear the uncertainty in his voice and her heart broke for him.

"Come on, Professor," she said gently, hoping that her use of the old nickname would help. "Let's get back to the TARDIS."

He nodded silently and waited while she picked up her rucksack and the fallen canister of Nitro Nine. There was no indication now that anything out of the ordinary had happened in the tiny alcove; as it should be. She doubted that the museum's caretakers would've been understanding had the _Mona Lisa_ or any of the other priceless artefacts been damaged or destroyed.

The Doctor seemed torn as they headed back to the TARDIS. One moment, he'd speed up, as if he couldn't wait to return to his ship and search for Rose. The next, he'd slow down, staring at the ground, his entire body a statement to despair. She couldn't let him leave like this.

She bit her lower lip. She'd sworn a long time ago that she'd confine herself to the Rift. She didn't have worlds to explore throughout time and space – she had one, just one, and that was enough. Not anymore. She found she was willing to give up that earlier vow, especially if what she'd feared was true.

Without a friend to help him – if Rose was gone - she was afraid that he'd break, fracture into a thousand pieces that could never be found again. He wasn't leaving Paris. Not without her.

Sure, she'd have some unfinished business, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the Doctor, her friend, and that was enough.

The remainder of the journey to the TARDIS was thankfully uneventful. She'd yet to see (or hear) another patrol of security guards, which did little to increase her opinion of their attentiveness, but she was thankful for it. She had no desire to explain their presence inside the closed museum.

"Doctor," she said as he put his key into the lock. "I'm coming with you."

His hand stilled upon the key and he angled his head toward her, meeting her gaze. She could read grief, anger, hurt, and despair in his eyes – all of which told her that she was making the right decision. She couldn't let him leave like this.

"You need me," she added, not caring if it sounded like she was begging. She wasn't. She was telling.

He smiled, but there was no emotion behind it beyond resignation. She supposed that he'd already guessed that she was far too stubborn to let him leave her behind and had decided to forestall the inevitable argument about responsibility and the Rift. Some things had to take priority.

And the Doctor currently occupied the number one slot on her priority list.

The door opened with a familiar creak, sending a pang of nostalgia through her. For so many years, the old time ship had been home. She pulled in a bracing breath as she started to follow him inside, only to run into his back.

"Doc-" she began, but interrupted herself. She could see someone was standing by the console. She didn't need to see the other person clearly to know that it was Rose. "Find me before you go," she whispered and, without waiting for any sort of acknowledgement – she knew there wouldn't be one – she turned and walked back into the Louvre, closing the door behind her.

She'd find her own way out.

Some reunions are best when unobserved.

* * *

Time stopped.

He could feel it, for a moment, when he crossed the threshold into the TARDIS. It had faltered, skidded, halted for just an instant.

Because she was there. Rose. His Rose. Watching him watch her.

"Rose." Her name was a whisper on his lips as he looked at her, barely willing to trust that she was real and not a dream.

She smiled and he was undone. How could a dream have such a perfect recollection of her unique smile? Much as it would break him should it not be real, he had to believe. She was real. She was here.

He hadn't lost her.

A step, another, and another until it became a run. He charged up the ramp towards her, unwilling to blink in case she faded away. But she didn't, because she couldn't, because she was here, and then, finally, she was in his arms.

She was real. Oh, thank Rassilon, she was real. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the faint scent of herbal shampoo and her perfume. "I thought I'd lost you," he confessed softly against the golden strands, unwilling to release her even for the small distance it'd take to look into her eyes.

Rose tightened her hold on him. "For a moment, you had." He heard something unexpected in her voice, a wisdom, perhaps, that had not been there before.

"Rose..."

She pulled away from his embrace only enough to see his face. "I'm here now," she said, lifting her hand to cup his cheek.

"Yeah," he agreed, leaning into her touch. "You are."

"It's gone now." She didn't have to elaborate. He knew what she meant. When he looked into her eyes, he could no longer see flecks of gold. All he saw was Rose.

"That's okay," he replied, unable to give voice to the fierce joy that pounded with each beat of his hearts. No more Bad Wolf, which, he reasoned, meant she was no longer a fragment of the Key. She'd returned to the beginning. To the console room of the TARDIS. To where Bad Wolf had begun.

Full circle.

"Is it?" she asked, and he could see the worry in her eyes. Worry that without the gifts that Bad Wolf had brought her, he wouldn't want her anymore. Worry that without Bad Wolf she was nothing. What she didn't understand was that she was everything.

"Yes," he told her firmly, willing her to believe him. "Yes, it is. I didn't ask Bad Wolf to come with me twice, Rose. I asked you."

She smiled brilliantly at him and he grinned in reply. She'd be fine.

"Thank you," she said.

He blinked. "What for?"

She leaned forward until their lips were only millimetres apart, their breath intermingling. His body shivered in reaction. "For asking me twice, for saving my life, for showing me the universe, for letting me stay, for holding my hand, for telling me to run, for the holidays we've had and will have, for the adventures we've finished and the one's we've yet to, and just for being you. My Doctor."

He closed the distance between them and kissed her for what seemed to be the first time in forever. In a sense, perhaps, it was. He poured all of his emotions into the movement of his lips. He willed her to feel how much he'd missed her, how much he was thankful for her, how much he loved her though he'd never said the words.

When the need for oxygen became too great, they separated, breathing heavily. "My Rose," he said, tightening his arms around her again. She was safe. She was here, in his arms. He hadn't lost her. He hadn't failed. Oh, thank Rassilon, he hadn't lost her.

She smiled as she trailed her fingers down the line of his jaw. "Jus' do me a favour."

"Anything." He'd do anything if she'd just keep doing that.

"Let's avoid Paris for the next, oh, couple of hundred thousand years?"

That startled a laugh out of him. "I think that could be arranged. But we do have one stop we have to make before we go."

"Oh?" she asked.

"Yeah. To say goodbye. Or, in her case, see you later." He pulled out of their embrace, but dropped one hand to entwine with hers. He wasn't willing to let her go, not yet. It was a small thing, but it was tangible enough to convince him that she was real.

And she was.

* * *

She remembered the moment when sensation had returned. Sight, sound, smell, and touch had poured over her, and through her, in an instant. It was almost overwhelming, but it'd been nothing like what she'd known before.

Rose Tyler had been Time. She could remember bits and pieces of it in unguarded moments. When she was distracted by the touch of his hand, or the warmth in his gaze, a memory would surface of when she hadn't truly existed.

It was generally only a snippet, sometimes nothing more than a feeling, but it was still there. However, she resolved not to tell him. Bad Wolf was gone. She knew it as surely as she knew the texture of his skin or the feel of his lips upon hers.

She just knew the memories that were left in its wake.

The TARDIS groaned as it was set into motion, the pulse of the time rotor keeping time with the beat of her heart. She had unfinished business here, she realised. Not just with the Doctor. She cocked her head at him as he grinned maniacally, the soft green glow of the rotor casting his face in shadows and light. She had designs on the Time Lord, really, but that was for later.

For now, she was glad that they'd get the chance to see Dorothée one more time. It was a bit of a paradox, really. Meeting someone for the first time for the second time. It went both ways. Dorothée had first met her here, Paris, 1913. She'd first met Dorothée there, Nova Paris, late twenty-second century. Time travel semantics were enough to give anyone a splitting headache, she decided.

But, now, it was time to say goodbye.

The TARDIS shuddered to a stop and they walked to the door together, hand-in-hand. She needed that familiar contact, the touch of skin-to-skin, after her earlier experience. It was amazing, really, how much one can miss something so simple when it was gone. Then again, with him, nothing was ever simple. Not life nor love. It just was.

They pushed open the double-doors and walked into what looked like a mad scientist's lair. It suited Dorothée, really. The room was well lit, though it was underground. A full chemistry set was set up in the corner, a handwritten sign proclaiming it to be the home of 'ACME EXPLOSIVES'. What could only be confiscated alien technology was scattered about the tables in various states of disassembly and, of course, the black motorbike was leaning against the wall.

"How anyone could've missed a TARDIS materialisation is beyond me," the Doctor muttered from beside her. She wouldn't mention that people had before – but those were people who didn't know. Hadn't seen the TARDIS or travelled with the Time Lord.

"Oi! Give me a mo', takes a bit longer for me to get anywhere wearing this get up." Dorothée protested as she seemed to flicker into existence in front of them. No longer wearing the borrowed t-shirt and jeans, she was clothed in two layers. One, she recognised from Nova Paris – some sort of black body armour. The second layer seemed to glitter and – was it breathing?

"A Debralian chameleon carapace! Oh, I haven't seen one of those in-" the Doctor seemed to reconsider his words before he continued "-a very long time." His brow furrowed as he looked from the carapace to Dorothée. "Actually, I thought Debralia had been destroyed in the War."

She didn't need to ask to know which war he referenced. An echo of pain crossed Dorothée's face as she nodded. "It was. Got this off of a pair of Grashte who'd decided that invasion via the Rift was a good plan. I dissuaded them of that particular idea."

"Ah."

The silence that followed his reply had the possibility of becoming awkward later, but she wouldn't let it. Instead, she dropped the Doctor's hand after one last squeeze and crossed the room to stand in front of her friend. "I wanted to say thanks, Dorothée. Thanks for takin' care of him when I couldn't."

Dorothée smiled and shrugged. "Someone's got to do it. Glad I could help. And-" she found herself pulled into a rough hug "-I'm glad you're okay."

"'M fine," she replied, and she was. While the Doctor was at a distance, she judged that this was the only time she could let her friend know. In a whisper, she said, "You'll see me again."

The other woman pulled back and looked at her curiously for a moment before understanding dawned. She could practically see the puzzle pieces click into place in her mind as Dorothée smiled. "Yeah. We will. Take care of yourself, Rose. And him."

She smiled as she stepped back, letting the Doctor take her place. "Always."

"Don't be a stranger," Dorothée said, not letting him say the words first. "I spent too long thinking you were dead, okay? So you'd better pop in to say 'hello' once in a while, or else."

She couldn't see the Doctor's face, but she could see Dorothée's. The other woman smiled, though she could see a tell-tale shine in her eyes. A moment later, the Doctor had pulled her into a bear-hug. "It was good to see you again, Ace."

"Yeah," Dorothée agreed. "You too." She pulled out of the hug to look the Doctor in the eyes. "Promise me, okay? Promise that I'll see you again?"

He nodded. "Promise. We'll stop in for tea sometime. Just make sure to have a handy supply of pastries. I've always been partial to paris-brest."

She fought the urge to laugh. Though it meant they'd have to come back to Paris again, she didn't mind as much since it would be to see their friend.

Dorothée laughed. "See you around, Professor."

"Yeah," he said and, turning around, he walked back to her.

Her hand slipped into his automatically and they walked back to the TARDIS. She knew that they'd see Dorothée again. Not because of the twists and turns of time, but because of fate.

When they entered the console room, he released her hand to bound up the ramp to the console. As he started to flip switches and turn knobs, he turned toward her, grinning widely. "So, Rose Tyler, where to next? There're so many places I could take you. Places where the ground's made of crystal, the people are made of smoke, the sky's on fire, and the cities resound with song. Places where your breath changes colour depending on the weather. Places where there's danger, or excitement, or relaxation. The universe's the limit!"

Oh, it all sounded brilliant, but there was one place that she could think of that she'd much rather visit. The universe could wait. Now, all she wanted was him. She smiled as she walked toward the door to the interior of the TARDIS. Holding out her hand, she cast a look over her shoulder. "Come with me?"

He hit another switch and the TARDIS shuddered into flight. Somehow, she knew that they wouldn't be landing anywhere just yet. He joined her a moment later and grasped her hand. In a low voice that promised far more than words alone could convey, he replied to her question, "Thought you'd never ask."

**END**


End file.
